


Pawn Or Queen?

by ladyoneill



Series: Shadows Of The Moon: Full Moon Ficlets [57]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Lydia Martin, Depression, Forced Bonding, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 08:31:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1421581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/pseuds/ladyoneill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After finding out he's pregnant, Stiles feels more and more like he's just Peter's pawn, until Lydia makes him see the board a bit differently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pawn Or Queen?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the fullmoon ficlet prompt "never a fool" and set a few days after "Acceptance".

Sitting on his bed, nausea the constant companion to his dark thoughts, Stiles turns the white pawn from his chess set over and over between his fingers. Just a couple weeks before--before he knew the extent of Peter's plans--he accused his mate of making him just a pawn, a fool, a tool to be used and exploited.

It led to one of their bigger fights.

Which, inevitably, led to bed.

At the memory of the angry passion between them, a tremor goes down his spine and he wraps his free arm around his waist, then bleakly wonders how long he'll be able to do that.

Two days ago he found out and he confronted Peter and the Alpha was so proud, so sure of himself and his control of Stiles, and...

He has the right to be, because Stiles _is_ just a pawn.

A hand closes over his, stilling his fingers, and he jerks in shock. So caught up in the horribleness of his life, he didn't hear anyone come in. 

The hand is small, slender, with purple painted nails.

Tears stinging his eyes, he looks up at Lydia who gives him a look of such compassion he wants to just sob in her lap, but he fights down most of the raw emotion, leaving only the bitterness.

"Now we know what he really planned." Even he can hear the hollowness in his voice, so he isn't surprised when Lydia sits down next to him and wraps her arms around his shoulders, drawing his head down to hers.

"You're not a pawn, Stiles," she replies confidently, though there's a hitch in her voice that betrays how much she's hurting for him.

Stiles is still kind of amazed that Lydia Martin _can_ hurt for him.

"I'm an idiot. He's been using me all along, planning all of this. Mating me because...because..." The nausea swells and he fights for control, forcing down the bile that's all that is left in his stomach after vomiting both breakfast and lunch.

"Pawns are expendable. They die at the orders of the queen. That's not you. Stiles, you're the king."

Pulling back, he gives her an incredulous look and watches as she reaches over to the chess board set out on his desk chair pulled up to the bed. Picking up the white king she holds it out to him. 

"Kings are the goal in chess. To capture the opposing one means you win. To protect your own means you win."

"Kings have no power," he responds dully. "They might as well be princesses in a tower, reliant on everyone else for survival. If I'm the king, then Peter's made me his toy."

"Or his most precious..." A frown crosses her face and his own goes cold.

"You can say it, Lyds. Possession. That's what I am. A thing for him to use any way he wants. First, I thought he just wanted my body for sex, but that was never it. He wanted me so I could create this...this thing," he spits out bitterly. "Next he'll want my magic and God knows what he'll make me do for him." Reaching over, he picks up the black queen and glares at it. "I'd rather be a pawn to be used and tossed aside. This way, I'll never be free of him." His fingers close around the queen until the wooden crown bites into his skin. "I hate him."

"Good," is her clipped reply. "He deserves it."

His shoulders slump and he drops the queen on his lap, watching it roll between his folded legs--the irony of Peter between his legs doesn't elude him. "But, if I hate him forever, where does that leave me, Lydia? If I let him pull all the strings, make all the decisions, even as far as how I feel, what kind of idiot does that make me? You told me I was smarter than him. How do I beat him?"

"I don't know," she admits softly, the takes a black pawn from the board. "Maybe by making him _your_ pawn. Right now he's the black queen, trapping you, but if you take that power from him, make him a pawn, he can only do two things. Protect and sacrifice."

"Peter doesn't care enough about me to do anything like that."

"...Yet."

Eyes going wide, Stiles stares at her. "Make him...care about me?"

"Win as much freedom as you can from him that way. You can do it. You're not an idiot, Stiles. You're the smartest guy I know. Peter thinks he's already won this game, but it's just starting, and you're much more clever than he is. Turn it on its ear. Become your own queen. Reduce him to your pawn."

A bubble of amusement comes out of nowhere and he chokes out a laugh. "There's a joke in there somewhere about men being queens, right?"

Lydia rolls her eyes, but her lips twitch into a small smile and she replaces the chess pieces before wrapping him in her arms again. This time he returns the embrace and they curl together on his bed. 

"You've never been a fool in this, Stiles. No one could have foreseen any of what's happened--why would we have given you getting pregnant any thought? All of this is on Peter. Make him pay for it."

"Yeah. I...I think I can do that."

For the first time in nearly three days, he feels a tiny bit of hope, and his eyes drift over the chessboard, noting the position of the white queen. Moving the black queen back to the board, he uses the white to knocks it over, putting him in position to take the black king in one move. "Check and mate, Peter."

He feels Lydia grin against his shoulder.

End


End file.
